


Souls for Rent

by Keolah



Category: Rent - Larson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Angels, Demons, Gen, POV First Person, Present Tense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-21
Updated: 2011-11-21
Packaged: 2017-12-10 05:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keolah/pseuds/Keolah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world was taken over by demons, and the prospect of selling one's soul to pay the rent is no longer merely a saying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Souls for Rent

You'd think that walking home early from work would be a good thing. Normally, I might agree with you on that, but not today. Today I'm walking home early because I no longer have a job.

It was that sudden. I just arrived at the factory only to discover that I'd been fired overnight, without anyone even bothering to notify me. Couldn't they have at least called or something? Not that it really matters at this point. I'm staring intently at the ground as I stumble up the driveway, up the porch, and into the house.

I step into the work room, and see Joanne at the sewing machine, mending her waitress uniform. She glances up at me as I close the door behind me.

"Collins? You're home early. Did something happen at work?"

I sigh heavily and slump down against Roger's exercise bike. "Don't have any work anymore, I'm afraid. They didn't even bother to tell me why they fired me."

"Well, that's just lame." She sets aside her work and stands up, and puts a hand on my shoulder comfortingly.

"Don't worry too much about it, Collins," Jo says. "There's still four other people in the house who are working. The rest of us can cover for your share of the rent until you can find yourself another job."

"I feel bad about relying on you guys, though. Especially you, Jo. Guys are supposed to take care of girls, after all, not the other way around."

_SLAP!_

Did she seriously just slap me in the face? I gingerly put my fingers up to my stinging cheek and look over at Joanne, but she's already turned away in a huff and gone back to what she was going before I got home.

"Sorry..." I mutter my apology and head for the kitchen.

My friend, Mark, is in the kitchen, sitting on a bar stool and gnawing on a piece of buttered toast. "Hey, Collins. Did you say something stupid or sexist again? I could hear the smack from over here."

"I didn't think I said anything bad, but apparently she took it that way. What's wrong with wanting to look after members of the fair sex?"

Mark gives a snort at that and almost chokes on his toast. "This is Jo you're talking about, remember? You'd think you'd be used to it by now. Are you just stupid, or do you actually enjoy the abuse?"

"Cut it out, Mark. I just lost my job."

"Then you need a smile more than ever, I say. Shall we have a toast, then, to your newfound spare time?" He offers me another slice of toast, grinning crookedly.

I snort softly. "You're horrible, Mark, you know that, right?"

Nonetheless, I accept the piece of toast and slide onto one of the bar stools, and start nibbling with a sigh.

"What the hell am I going to do now?" I mutter. "We've been barely making end's meet as it is. Benny won't take kindly to late rent."

"Don't worry about it, Collins. We might have to tighten our belts or brave Maureen's concoctions, but at least we'll be able to cover the rent. Nobody's gonna have to sell their souls just yet."

"Good," I say with a sigh. "I'll try to find another job as soon as possible, even if it only pays half a share an hour. Damned factory job... Three shares an hour, and I thought I was rolling in the riches at that, and now it's gone in the blink of an eye."

"Them's the breaks sometimes," Mark says. "Those demon overlords will do anything they can get away with on a whim just to watch you squirm."

"I don't suppose you know of anyone that's hiring, do you? Any positions available at your store, maybe?"

"I'm afraid not," Mark replies. "They let off another cashier last week, even. Times are tough, eh man? But don't let it get you down. I'm sure we can find something for you."

"Thanks, Mark. I'm not going to let everyone down like this."

I finish my toast and head upstairs to my room to get changed. If I'm not going to work, I may as well get out of my work clothes. Roger is in my room on the phone when I come in, so I make sure to be quiet. Well, our room, really. The house has four bedrooms, and there are eight of us, so we're all bunked two to a room. Roger works from home as a telemarketer. Perhaps not the most glamorous job ever, but then none of us qualify for that statement.

Roger finishes his call and hangs up, and looks over to me. "You get fired? Who'd you piss off, Collins?"

"Hell if I know."

"You should try to stay on the demons' good side, you know," Roger says. "It makes life a lot easier."

"Hey, it's not like I'm actively trying to go out of my way to rain on their parade or anything. For all I know, they just picked someone at random, or maybe someone thought I was ugly, or didn't like Indians, or something. I don't know."

"Better see if you can find something else, quick. Bad enough we're carrying Maureen. We don't need anymore freeloaders in this house."

"I have no intention of becoming a freeloader," I say. "And Maureen is still bloody useful, even if she doesn't work."

"Bah, what does she really do?" Roger says with a snort. "She sits around and does wiggly-waggly magic all day and brews up questionable potions."

"I'll remind you that one of those questionable potions of hers managed to regrow that finger I accidentally severed last year at work."

"Yeah, maybe you're willing to touch them," Roger says. "Me, leave me out of it, I say, and leave me far away from the hocus-pocus."

"Suit yourself," I say with a shrug. "I'm heading out to see if I can scrounge up work. Good luck with your phone sales."

"Later, Collins."

* * *

None of us living in this house are particularly religious. Sure, Jo goes to mass occasionally, Mark keeps the Sabbath, but I think it's more out of habit for us than anything else, really. We're just running around in the same circles we always were, regardless of what the world might throw at us. Is it faith, or just blind foolishness? I'm hardly one to say, one way or another.

I'm sure plenty of people were left questioning their faith when the demons invaded and took over all of Earth, and no gods came to save anyone. Of course, others took it as a test of faith and became all the more fervant. But the rest of us, well, we're somewhere in the middle. In my eyes, nothing has really changed.

At times like this, however, I can't help but wish for a little divine intervention.

I've spent all day poking around the neighborhood, looking fruitlessly for something that might net me some cash. It's getting late now, and I have nothing to show for it but some cuts and bruises. Some young demon punks tried to rough me up for valuables, only to realize that even my shoes weren't worth taking.

Sore and weary, I head back toward the house. Things are bad enough in broad daylight. I'd rather not be wandering around out here alone after nightfall.

The streets are quiet. Too quiet. I expect to hear the sounds of traffic, birds, rap music, but there's none of that tonight. Just the wind.

And then I see something white. Something bright, something white, laying bloody in an alley like so much roadkill.

I frown, and approach, perhaps against my better judgment, to see what this might be. Did someone get jumped in the alley and left for dead? But... feathers... Two white wings, broken and bloody, attached to the body of a beautiful white woman in a white dress, like a bride discarded on her wedding day. Her blonde hair is matted with blood, but her blue eyes flutter for a moment. She's still alive!

"Hang in there, doll," I say reassuringly. "I'll get you somewhere safe. I'll get help for you."

I figure that just leaving her here would be worse than trying to move her, so I go over to pick her up in my arms. She's light as a feather, like there's nothing to her but air and light. What is she? She's certainly no demon. Could she be an angel? I've heard rumors of them, but I've never actually seen one before, myself. What angel would bother swooping down into our little hellhole?

I stumble back into the house, carefully cradling the winged woman in my arms. So I'm hurt too, so what? She's much worse off than I am right now. She's the one who really needs help.

Joanne is on the couch when I come into the living room, but she gets up quickly in alarm when she sees me approach. "Oh my! She looks like she's hurt! Quick, lay her down on the sofa. I'll go get Maureen! One of her potions will fix her right up!" Jo dashes off upstairs, and I gingerly place the winged woman down upon the couch.

"What's going on?" Roger asks.

"I found her out in an alley," I say. "I don't know what happened, but I couldn't just leave her there."

"How romantic!" Mark puts in. "The dashing hero sweeps in to save the beautiful maiden!"

"Shut up, Mark."

"Is she... is she really an angel?" Mark wonders.

"Looks like an angel to me," Mimi says. "Not that I'm really an expert, mind you."

"Are we taking in strays now?" Roger says.

"We're hardly going to throw her out on the street!" Jo says.

I have no idea how the room became so crowded all of a sudden. And shortly becomes moreso as Joanne returns with Maureen in tow." Maureen's always a strange sight to see in the best of times. Seeing demons around has become commonplace, but Maureen is a human being, but not quite ordinary or natural. Her hair is purple, and not from any dye. Apparently using magic causes various physical side effects, frequently including strange things happening to the hair or eyes.

"Make way, mage coming through," Maureen says.

The crowd parts to make room for Maureen, wand in hand and carrying several potions. I'm sure she must keep some basic ones always on hand in case of an emergency, like this.

"Here, are you awake?" Maureen asks. "Can you drink this? There you go... Try not to spill any of it."

The barely conscious winged woman drinks down three potions and starts to look visibly better, although still bloodstained.

"Don't try to fly for at least a few weeks, but your wings should mend properly now. You probably had some internal injuries as well, which those potions should take care of."

"Th... thank you..." the angel murmurs.

"Let me know if there's still any other problems and I'll whip up something for you. The rest of you, give her some space, will you? Let the woman breathe a little. I'm going back upstairs until dinner." Maureen slips away up the stairs again, and the others back off reluctantly. Joanne heads back into the kitchen area to resume making dinner.

"So... what's your name?" I ask.

"Oh, you can just call me Angel," she says with a bright smile. "I am grateful for your assistance, and I will be happy to do whatever I can to repay you for your kindness."

"That's not really necessary," I say. "You were hurt, so I just wanted to help."

"Thank you again," Angel says. "After I was assaulted by those demons upon arriving here, I feared the worst."

She gives a wary look over toward Mimi, but the succubus just takes it in stride. "Don't worry about me, honey," Mimi says. "I'm a lover, not a fighter."

"Hey. Since Collins lost his job, I got the cheap hot dogs for tonight," Jo says. "There's only eight of them, though."

"Angel can have my share," I say.

"Suit yourself," Jo says with a shrug.

I don't really mind all that much. We go for those hot dogs if we can't afford anything better, but nobody's really sure just what kind of meat is in them. I pretend that it's pork, Mark pretends that it's beef, and all the while, it's probably actually human flesh, anyway. Well, to be fair, it's actually probably horse or dog, at least. We've learned not to be too picky, and decided to make avoiding starvation a higher priority than adhering to dietary restrictions.

"You don't need to go hungry for my sake," Angel says.

"It's alright," I say. "It'd just be silly to chop off little bits of meat to feed to you. I'll just take a bit extra of everything else."

Not that there's all that much else, but it seems to mollify Angel at least.

"Do you have anywhere else to stay, Angel?" Jo asks.

"No, I'm afraid not," Angel says. "I just arrived here on Earth. I suppose I'll need to find lodgings soon, won't I?"

"Well, you can stay here with us, if you like," Jo says. "We've got an extra bunk up in the master bedroom you can use. I'm sure Maureen won't mind."

"Thank you. Your hospitality is appreciated."

"Hey, Angel," Mark says. "Sorry for imposing, but could I ask you something?"

"Of course. I'll answer if I can."

"Are you really an angel?"

"Yes," she replies. "I am an angel."

"So there's other angels like you?" Mark asks.

"A great many of them, yes."

"So... tell me then... is there a God?" Mark asks hesitantly.

Angel just blinks for a moment and looks at Mark in confusion. "Well, yes, there's a number of them. What do you mean?"

"I mean... is there an omnipotent, omnipresent Creator of the universe?" he wonders, stumbling over his words.

The angel only looks all the more confused, and then her eyes widen as something seems to dawn on her. "Oh... I see... this is one of the folk stories from this world, I take it? I've read something up on them before I came here. I believe the one you are asking about is the one called... Chuck Norris?"

Everyone else stares at her for a long moment.

"Bwahahaha..." I laugh aloud.

"That's... not quite what I meant..." Mark says sheepishly.

"I think they just don't like the idea of their gods potentially not being the omnipotent maker of the world," I put in.

Angel blinks. "Oh. Well. Need someone be omnipotent in order to be worthy of being followed?"

"I wouldn't think so, personally," I say.

"Besides," Angel says. "For all that, you might as well just serve the universe itself. What's wrong with that? That seems like a noble ideal to me."

"I am so very confused..." Mark says.

"You're the one who opened the can of worms," Roger says.

"So, Angel," I say. "Which god do you serve, then?"

"Oh, I'm a humble follower of the wise god, Robert Smith," Angel replies. "Praise be unto Bob."

Everyone goes quiet and stares at her again.

"I... can't say I've heard of that one," I say.

"He is a newcomer to the divine stage, having only attained godhood last year, against much opposition from traditionalist factions."

"Well... that's... um..." Mark mutters inarticulately.

"Dinner's ready," Jo announces.

That's enough to distract everyone from what they were doing to focus on the meal Joanne has served up tonight. Angel seems somewhat distressed at the meager portions, looking from plate to plate and frowning faintly.

"Erm... if you're still hungry you can have some more of mine," I offer.

"No, no, that's quite alright. I was just wondering how you survive off so little. Is this common here on Earth?"

"For a lot of us humans, yeah," Mark says.

"And some of us demons," Mimi adds.

"But we get by," Jo says. "We can stand on our own and make do for ourselves. The demon overlords might control the Earth now, but they will not hold us down!"

"Hear, hear," Mark says.

"Whatever you say," Roger says unenthusiastically.

As we finish up eating and start clearing the plates away, the front door opens and a large man stomps into the kitchen. Benjamin Coffin the Third, our demonic landlord. He's a tall, muscular, gray-skinned demon underlord, wearing a stylish pinstriped suit that probably cost a year's worth of rent. Everyone freezes as he stands in the archway to the living area, staring each of us down until his eyes come to rest upon Angel, and narrow suspiciously. He's not the sort of person you'd want to see in the best of circumstances, but for him to show up now?

"So it's true," Benny says. "You do have an angel here."

So someone told him. Damn it. I hoped he wouldn't noticed.

"She's just--" Jo begins.

"Is she a new tenant?" Benny interrupts.

"She just got here," I reply. "We were going to go fill out the paperwork in the morning, since it was already so late."

"Fine. That won't be a problem." His grin is positively terrifying. And then he utters words of dread. "I'm raising your rent." The room is so still that everyone scarcely breathes. "A quarter-soul a month."

"You're doubling our rent!? You--" Jo cuts herself off, looking down suddenly and taking a deep breath. It wouldn't do to anger our demon landlord, lest he throw her out or decide to raise the rent again on a whim.

"But I'm a generous demon," Benny goes on. "If you're having difficulty paying, I'll offer a hundred shares per night for the services of an angel."

He grins toothily over at Angel, then turns and leaves without another word, chuckling ominously to himself.

"Shit," I utter. "Who told him she was here?"

Several eyes land on the succubus.

"Hey, don't look at me," Mimi says, holding up her hands. "Just because I'm a demon doesn't mean I like him anymore than the rest of you."

"I'm sorry if my presence here has caused trouble for you," Angel says. "But I'll try to make it up to you. Cleaning for him shouldn't be a problem, so I suppose I can take him up on his offer--"

"NO!" exclaims half the room at once.

Angel blinks for a moment in startlement. "Is there a problem with that?"

"That's... not the sort of services he had in mind, I don't think," I say uneasily.

"Oh?" Angel raises an eyebrow. "Then what did he mean?"

"Um..." I'm not really sure how to put this.

"Just trust us when we say you really don't want to do that, alright?" Mark says.

"Well, if you say so..." Angel says. "But then how are we to pay what he wants?"

"We'll find a way," I say.

Everyone goes quiet and looks thoughtful. I suspect no one wants to think that we may wind up having to do some terrible things if we want to support our newest friend.

"No need to fear, then," Angel says brightly. "When you have the will to accomplish something, Bob will see to it that the path is open."

I don't think anyone cares to argue with that sentiment at the moment, either. I don't know what this Bob may or may not do on this world, but I'll not be the one to complain if he really does help out somehow.

* * *

The next morning, Mimi intercepts me in the kitchen. The purple succubus is grinning with glee, tail swishing back and forth.

"Collins!" she exclaims. "I have some job openings for you, if you're interested. The pay is great, too!"

"I'm not sure that I want to know what sort of jobs you've come up with for me, Mimi."

"Oh, there's always a shortage of men working at the brothel, and most of the ones we do have prefer to stick to our female customers, more's the pity. But there's good pay for men willing to service other men!"

"I'm afraid I'll have to pass on that for the moment. Sorry."

"Do you have something else lined up already?" Mimi asks.

"Well, no..." I admit.

"Well, if you have an aversion to sexual favors, humans do seem to be weird about that sometimes, I've also got a job available for a male stripper. You'd just have to dance and take your clothes off. No problem, right?"

"I'm... not a very good dancer."

"Ah, that's okay," Mimi says, waving it off. "Most of the customers won't be paying attention to that anyway, and more just staring at your lovely bronze skin."

"Um... how about I just keep that in mind if I can't find anything else?"

"Heh," Mimi says. "You humans _are_ weird. I guess that's why they pay so well for it. I'm almost jealous of the fact that a night with you is worth more than a night with a succubus like me."

"It is? Really?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Yep. Succubi are practically a smidgen a dozen these days, but human men on the other hand, especially young, good-looking ones like you, are another matter entirely."

"Well... I suppose I should be flattered. I think."

"Is Angel looking for a job, too?" she asks.

"I guess, but I'd really appreciate if you didn't offer her the same sorts of things you just suggested to me."

"Why not?" she wonders.

"She seems awfully... innocent and naive," I say. "I'd really rather that she didn't get such a view of our world already."

Mimi looks at me in puzzlement, and just gives a shrug. "I don't get it, but I suppose I'll keep my mouth shut. It's a lot of money, though... and at least it would beat putting out for Benny. Even I won't stoop to that level."

"Thanks, Mimi."

Mimi smiles at me encouragingly and scurries off to work. I have to admit that I'm still a bit suspicious of her after Benny discovered Angel's presence here so quickly. But it's really most likely unfair and unfounded.

Speaking of whom, the angel is descending the stairs now like a graceful swan. She looks strange, wearing different clothes, but I suppose her pristine white dress would need to be cleaned and mended, anyway. She probably borrowed these from Joanne or Maureen, but they make her look even more like just a winged woman rather than an angel.

"Is there anything for breakfast?" Angel asks. "Joanne isn't cooking anything this morning?"

"She generally only makes dinner," I say. "That's the only time all of us come together. Everyone fends for themselves in the mornings, since they all leave at different times."

"Oh, I see," Angel says. "That's a pity. Her cooking was quite good, even if the fare was meager."

"You should see Maureen's cooking," I say. "She's even better, but good luck convincing her to actually cook."

"Why doesn't she want to cook?" Angel asks.

"I dunno. I guess she's just always so busy with her mage stuff. She rarely makes time for much of anything else. Here, there's some toast for you if you want it."

"Thank you." She takes the piece of toast from me and delicately takes a bite from it. I don't know about an angel, but she acts like a princess. Her manner just seems so out of place in this dump. And all I can do is offer this princess a slice of buttered toast. It just seems wrong somehow. She deserves better than this.

"You're going out to search for a job today, aren't you?" she asks. "I'd like to accompany you."

"Sure thing."

And that's a hell of a first date. Job hunting so as to try to avoid resorting to prostitution.

"Does this world really trade in souls as its primary form of currency?" Angel asks.

"No," I say. "Well, kind of. The demons brought in their own currency system based around the 'soul', but any given soul might be worth more or less than a soul. If you get my meaning."

She stares at me blankly.

"A thousand shares to a soul, a thousand smidgens to a share. A soul is a lot of money. We mainly deal with things on the share level. A reasonable job might earn you a share an hour."

"I see. I think. I suppose it should not surprise me to learn of soul trading happening on a world presently controlled by demons."

"Yeah," I say. "Don't worry. None of us are exactly eager to agree to that sort of deal. We'd rather starve first."

We finish what passes for breakfast, and head out. It's a warm day. It's September now, but summer's still firmly holding its grip over the weather for the moment.

"Let's try down at the mall," I suggest. "Maybe there's something open there."

"Whatever you think might help," she says. "I'm not very familiar with this world, I'm afraid."

We arrive at the mall. I'm not too hopeful about finding work here, but it's as good a place as any to start. And maybe someone will be willing to hire an angel where they wouldn't hire me. Preferably for work that isn't demeaning.

"Oh, this place is beautiful!" Angel exclaims.

"Wha...? It's just the mall."

"The way the sunlight streams in through the glass above. The smoothness of the polished floor. The colorful glowing lights of the signs. It's all so marvelous."

"Er... I guess..." I say, looking at it again. "I never really saw it that way before..."

"And what's this?" Angel says, looking at the excalator. "A magical moving staircase?"

"It's not really magic... it's just a machine... There's a motor in it that makes it move."

"Oh?" Angel says. "It's all the more amazing that you humans have managed to accomplish such things without the use of magic!"

With how little she knows about Earth, I wonder just what kind of job she'd even be able to do. Well, I'm sure something will turn up. We head down the mall asking the various shops if they're hiring, but no one even wants to look at us twice. Not the clothing store, not the toy store, not the bookshop, nor the sporting goods place. Then we arrive at the food court, and I can practically hear Angel's stomach growling.

"We should get lunch, maybe?" Angel suggests. "We didn't really have much for breakfast."

"We can't really afford to eat at these places right now..." I say sheepishly.

"Oh, but look, they're offering free samples," Angel says, pointing. "Why don't we try it out?"

"Hmm... well, free samples are okay, I guess."

We pass by the bakery and pick up samples of cake, and then the next place is offering samples of barbecue chicken, and the next one has free fruit punch in little paper cups.

"Those were tasty!" Angel says. "It's nice seeing what kinds of food you have on Earth. Let's check out the sandwich place next."

I follow along after her, realizing that I'd forgotten to ask for jobs in the last three places. They don't have any free samples out here, and there's just an older man behind the counter hurriedly trying to finish up orders for several people by himself.

"You look busy," Angel says. "Would you like some help with that?"

"If you're looking for work, we're definitely open for hiring, starting right this minute!"

Angel and I aren't about to argue with that sentiment, and head back to wash our hands, toss on aprons, and get to work. I was afraid Angel would have trouble doing things on Earth, but it turns out she's a natural with sandwich making. Her hands move like dancing butterflies, practically flying over the bread, toppings, and condiments. We're able to get through the backlog quickly between the three of us, leaving the crowd at the lunchtime rush happy.

"It was a miracle the two of you showed up when you did," the manager says. "I had three girls that were supposed to be working here, but they all skipped out, leaving me holding the bag."

"The hand of the Almighty Bob guided us here in this hour of need," Angel says.

"Did he, now?" he says. "Well, you can thank the Almighty Bob for me, then. You're worth the three of them put together. Can you do weekdays from ten till six?"

"We're wide open," I say. "How much are you paying?"

"A share an hour for you, and three for the glorious angel of sandwiches here."

Three shares an hour for making sandwiches? I stare at him agape.

Angel just smiles at him brightly. "I'm just glad to see people are enjoying the handiwork of my love."

He has us fill out the necessary paperwork in between customers, and shakes our hands happily. "And if you can see those airheaded twits come crawling back here, tell them they're fired."

"Why did they abandon their duties, anyway?" Angel wonders.

"They ran off to see a new romance movie that just came out," the manager says. "In costume, no less."

"That was awfully irresponsible of them," Angel says. "One must adhere to a promise as it is given. Self-gratification should wait."

"Heh. I like you already, even if it weren't for your awe-inspiring lunch powers. You, Collins was it? Let's leave Angel to the front for the moment. Need to organize some stuff in back."

"Alright."

Well, we got some more income, at least. Unfortunately, it's not going to be enough in and of itself. This will pay for half of the rent increase Benny imposed upon us, at best. Perhaps if we're lucky, we'll be able to find a second job. On the up side, the owner throws in lunch for us along with our salary, although we do have to make it ourselves. This is a far better meal than I usually get, and that alone is probably worth it all.

At the end of the work day toward closing time, the manager instructs us to throw away some food. Angel looks confused and distressed.

"Is there something wrong with this food?" Angel asks.

"Not really, but it's company policy," the manager says. "You do good work, so if you like, feel free to take home anything that would otherwise have to be thrown away anyway. We just can't sell it to customers."

"Hmm... Oh, I see," Angel says. "You want to provide the highest quality possible to the customers."

"Exactly."

"But as my name is Angel, I feel that it would be well to provide delicious sandwiches to those who are poor and hungry as well."

"Heh. You really are an angel, aren't you. Well, have at it, then."

We gather up the food that needs to be disposed of and head out of the mall again. When we get home, we find Joanne in the kitchen, who positively gapes at what we're carrying.

"What is this?" Jo wonders. "You didn't raid a dumpster, did you?"

"The Almighty Bob has provided for our meals with sandwiches from heaven."

Jo blinks. "... What?"

"In other words, we got jobs at the sandwich place down at the mall," I explain. "The manager fell in love with Angel's incredible sandwich skills."

"That's great news," Jo says. "And if we can save a bit on the food bill, even better."

After dinner, Mimi confronts me again. I'm afraid of what she has to say. "Just so you know, the strip club has a slot open tonight starting at eight o'clock. More money never hurts, right? They'll pay five shares an hour, plus tips. It's an excellent deal."

I sigh at her. "I'm not interested, Mimi. Sorry."

"I still don't understand why. All you're doing is taking off your clothes and moving around a bit. What's the big deal?"

"I just don't want to do this kind of work," I say. "Alright?"

"Fine, fine. Suit yourself."

All in all, however, I think things are looking up.


End file.
